


Forever Is the Sweetest Con

by ikknowplaces



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Injury, Cowboy AU, Dancing, Drama, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Wild West, and 7k words later here we are, this started as a joke, uhh yes this is a cowboy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikknowplaces/pseuds/ikknowplaces
Summary: The new woman sat in the same spot of the saloon as she did yesterday, at the corner just by the door, nursing a glass of whisky. Her boot grazed the wood in front of her, as if wanting to blend into the shadows, and Amaya didn't miss the fine leather, or accents of gold. Even her hat, laid on the table, seemed different to Amaya, but maybe that was just her growing suspicion. Beneath her hat, the woman had hair as bright as embers, twisted into careful locks that fell down her back. She watched the townspeople quietly, her finger tracing the rim of her empty glass, thinking no one was watching.Amaya was watching.When Janai arrives to the town of Katolis in search of her brother, she isn't well liked by Amaya, the mayor's sister-in-law, at first. Could the find the string that connects them?
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	Forever Is the Sweetest Con

**Author's Note:**

> never encourage me to do anythinggg. and i mean it, anything, because this is the result.
> 
> okay so this started as a joke/mere concept i imagined while listening to cowboy like me by taylor swift, an amazing song from her newest album evermore (that you should all check out) and i was like huh. i really like the lyrics, and the bridge remind me of janaya. i didn't plan to actually write it, but i posted the idea on my tumblr, got tons of encouraging messages (thank you!) and what was literally one scene (the last one) turned into a whole 7.7k words of an au. that is kinda cringey but i like it a lot
> 
> the overcoat/dress janai is wearing is [this one](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/84/f7/ed/84f7ed74ff0c8ade9b8be9b7445a4513.jpg) and yes this visual is important. if you wanna support my works you can check out [this page](https://queenjanaikofi.carrd.co/#)!
> 
> and i wanna thank again for everyone who encouraged me to write this, i never thought anyone but me would be interested in this sort of au, so thank you all, and i hope you'll enjoy this story

* * *

_You're a cowboy like me_

_never wanted love,_

_just a fancy car._

The new woman sat in the same spot of the saloon as she did yesterday, at the corner just by the door, nursing a glass of whisky. Her boot grazed the wood in front of her, as if wanting to blend into the shadows, and Amaya didn't miss the fine leather, or accents of gold. Even her hat, laid on the table, seemed different to Amaya, but maybe that was just her growing suspicion. Beneath her hat, the woman had hair as bright as embers, twisted into careful locks that fell down her back. She watched the townspeople quietly, her finger tracing the rim of her empty glass, thinking no one was watching.

Amaya was watching.

A movement in the corner of her eyes- Gren's hands- made her snap and turn her head back. She was sitting with her friend on the other side of the saloon, facing the door, out of an old habit. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Gren smiled underneath that straw-colored fuzz on his cheeks he called a beard. "I said, you should stop staring at her."

Amaya rolled her eyes, leaning back into her seat and taking another sip of her beer. It filled her mouth, that acid-like taste. "I don't like her," she pressed her middle finger and thumb together, at the center of her chest. Amaya was born in Katolis, had spent the last thirty-five years of her life in Katolis; she knew every single person in town, and how to spot trouble. That woman, she made Amaya's stomach boil. "She has been here for two days and hasn't talked to anyone, hasn't introduced herself to anyone."

"Only to your knowledge," Gren glanced at her, raising his shoulders. Her gaze sharpened at him as the meaning sank, and he continued before she could kick his ankle. "I asked Harrow, something you could've considered if you weren't so intent with staring at her from the distance. He said she came to greet him as soon as she arrived. She's looking for a family member, I think."

Amaya allowed the blush to warm her cheeks only for a second. What a fool, she should've sought out Harrow at once. "That doesn't make sense," she shifted in her chair, swallowing her pride. "She's the only stranger who has come here."

Gren shrugged. "Then perhaps she's merely resting between towns."

"Did you see that dagger she has?" Amaya glanced past his shoulder at the woman, who did nothing but trace her glass again. Gren sighed and buried his face in his palms. "No one uses daggers anymore, and besides a pistol?"

"You are reading into it again," his signs were tight and quick, like the clench of his jaw. "Is it not possible this outdated item is important to her? Like a certain shield you keep in your room?"

She was about to stand and approach the bar to pay for their drinks when Gren put his hand on her thigh, pushing her to stay. Amaya's head whipped to him, and just then the woman walked past her. A mere brush, a sweep in the air. Amaya looked into Gren's eyes. She would have collided with her right there if she had stood up, and what an awkward sight that would have been. Gren nodded, understanding the gratitude in her eyes, and withdrew his hand.

An exchange of coins, a quiet thank you, a tip of the hat, and the woman was headed in their direction again. Right in Amaya's line of sight, and her right in the woman's. Her long locks fell past her shoulders and down her back, a leather jacket covering a crimson tunic, and the boots that were scraping the wood a moment ago. Amaya's heart stopped with the woman leveled her gaze with hers, and the corner of her lips lifted with a smile.

The moment was gone as soon as it came, along with the woman, and it left Amaya without air in her chest.

_**━━━━━━━━** _

_I've got some tricks up my sleeve_

_takes one to know one_

She didn't see the woman for two days after their brief encounter. She asked the saloon's owner who helped manage the bar, a young woman with a pair of round glasses, if she had seen the newcomer, but the owner only shook her head, her skirt swirling around her as she filled another glass of beer. 

When she did see her again, she wasn't the one who made the move. The woman entered the saloon, and walked right to the table where she was sitting with Gren.

Gren turned to meet her eyes, and after Amaya followed him, she found the woman standing right in front of them.

"Good afternoon," she said, and Amaya swore she saw a shadow of discomfort passing her face. She would have rejoiced in that, if it wasn't for how tense she was. The woman slid her hand to her waist. "Could we have a word, miss?"

Amaya held her eyes. There were thousands of things she wanted to do, much less rational than a conversation. The woman had valor, she admitted, as she held Amaya just as much.

She nodded and rose from her seat, Gren rushing to follow suit. "Alone, I'd rather," she told Gren, who remained on his feet. He looked at Amaya, who nodded at him, and followed the woman to her table.

Sitting at the woman's spot by the door, Amaya felt different. Colder, perhaps, as if she has entered her territory, even though this table was no different than all the others. The woman sat upright and rested her arms on the table, which was certainly more civil than how she acted when drinking alone. 

They gazed at each other. Amaya didn't have Gren, but she did have her notebook. Not her preferred means to communicate, but better than nothing. If the woman was as smart as she seemed, she realized by now Amaya was deaf.

Finally, the woman spoke. "I apologize for not speaking with you sooner, and if I brought you dishonor."

Amaya suppressed a smile. This stranger couldn't damage her honor even if she wanted to, but this wasn't the time for games of pride. Amaya took out her notebook and began to write.  **_ Took you long enough. What is your business here? _ ** She spun the notebook to the woman.

Her eyes drifted across the page, and the tip of her tongue traced her lips as she read. "I hoped for a conversation, not an interrogation," she said, her fingers brushing the paper. "I'll grab us something to drink."

Amaya stood before her, the sharp move attracting the eyes of some curious diners. She would very much rather for the woman to stay in her place, even if it meant fetching some drinks.

She returned with two cups of beer, the foam licking the thick edges of glass. The woman inclined her head when Amaya set the cup on her side, but didn't hurry to drink.

Neither did Amaya.  **_ Now, you were about to tell me what are you doing in Katolis, _ ** she wrote again.

The light refused to fade from the woman's eyes. Amaya didn't remember the last time she encountered someone who was so amused by her irritation. That was, until she answered. "I am looking for someone," she said, and reached for her cup.

So it was true then. Amaya picked up the pencil again.  **_ A member of your family? You won't find them here. You're the only stranger around. _ **

"You'll be surprised by the footsteps strangers leave, as small as they can be," she leaned back in her seat, and loosely crossed her arms in her lap.

The irritation grew in Amaya's stomach. She didn't know what to make of this woman. First she was gleeful, then quiet, and distant, and witty all the same. She scribbled on the notebook again, faster this time.  **_ Makes me wonder if I'll regret yours. _ **

If that remark wounded her, she didn't show it. "Are you kin with the mayor?" Amaya nodded. "Figured you might be, seeing how protective you are of this town. Katolis is certainly the largest city I've visited yet."

**_ How many cities is that? _ **

"Six," she glanced at the ceiling, and nodded, then took another sip. "Listen, I don't mean any harm. If I don't find useful information here, I'll be on my way, but I'll appreciate not to be treated as a threat."

Amaya almost scoffed.  **_ Makes it hard to trust you when you won't say who you're looking for. _ **

She intertwined her hands as she read, her thumbs brushing against each other. "I'm looking for my brother, Amaya," she said, and looked away at once to see if anyone has heard that. 

_ Her tongue slipped. Why is this such a discreet detail? _ is a thought that would have crossed Amaya's mind if she wasn't struck by something else. She dragged the notebook to her.  **_ You know my name. _ **

She smiled, although her brows furrowed. "Yes, and you know mine."

This was true. Of course she knew her name. After Gren her told her what he knew, she went to Harrow to hear it again. Gren was sweet, and honest without doubt, but Amaya wanted to get Harrow's impression. 

Yet she extended her hand all the same. "Janai. Lux Aurea." 

Amaya took her hand. It was warmer than hers. She had waited for Janai to introduce herself, to see if she would follow the simplest courtesy, and it seemed like Janai was going to keep her wondering until the last moment. 

Janai reached to her belt, and a couple of coins fell from her hands. "Thank you for the drink," she said, and donned her hat, and left.

_**━━━━━━━━** _

_And the tennis court_

_was covered up_

_with some tent-like thing_

Gods be good, she didn't know how Janai did it. Perhaps it was luck, or a mere coincidence, but how it was timed with Janai's perfect arrival, Amaya couldn't call it either of those things.

A party came from Duren, from the west. Rich folks, to be specific, which meant good money being spent on their town. Harrow announced it at the saloon to anyone who could come that night, and from there it went from ear to ear, spreading across Katolis. 

Her gaze shifted to Janai after Harrow made it known. She was leaning against the wooden wall, and her eyes lit up at the opportunity. More strangers, who hopefully had the information she needed. As if she felt Amaya's eyes on her, Janai raised her glass at her, grinning.

She tried to get more details from Harrow. A large party, of about twenty people. They would stay for the weekend, if they were lucky. It was good for their single hotel, it was good for the diners, and it was certainly good for the saloon. 

She could feel the excitement rippling through the town, like Janai's smile that night, and when Amaya walked into the saloon again, it was like a whole other world.

The ceiling was covered with a white drape, emerging from the center and hammered into place to create wave-like things. Oil lanterns hanged from each point on uneven strings, painting the saloon in a golden light. The tables were covered like the ceiling, the bar was polished, and even the air felt...  _ different _ . 

It was very easy to spot the folks from Duren. Her fellow townspeople dressed in their finest clothes, but the rich carried themselves differently, even without intention. Their colors stood out, gold and silver and indigo, the patterns on their tunics and skirts, the paint of their faces. Amaya hasn't seen so many outsiders in eleven years. 

And of course, they were talking with  _ her _ . Janai had a crowd of four, surrounding her as she stood in a distant part of the saloon. The place was crowded, but it was like Janai had a bubble of her own. Her movements were subtle, and she didn't seem fazed by the status of her listeners at all, with her legs crossed and her back against the wall. Her hat was tilted to cover the side of her face, and Amaya could just make out the words.

"It was forged under the strongest sun. Do you see the hilt?" She held the dagger tightly, the metal shining when the light hit it at the right angle. A lady in a lilac dress sewn with lace reached to touch it, but Janai snagged the blade away. "Careful, miss, you could burn your fingers," she said, and laughed, and the group laughed with her.

Amaya stepped to her after the group left. 

"Good evening, Amaya," she said, and turned to gaze into the rest of the crowd. In pairs or groups, some had the luck to exchange words with the Duren folk, while others had their drinks at the bar.

She took out her notebook, which seemed rather unfitting of her outfit: a bright blue tunic with buttons of silver, above a white undershirt that peeked at her neckline and wrists, and her finest pair of breeches.  **_ They seemed to like you _ , ** she wrote. Janai only nodded at that, like she had nothing to do with that fact.  **_ What did you tell them? _ **

"Some story about my dagger, I'm sure you've noticed it," she answered after looking at the page. There was something about the way she regarded it, as if reading into every single letter. "Whatever they wanted to hear, really."

Her last sentence made Amaya's stomach stir.  **_ Lies, then? _ **

Janai glanced at the ceiling, and the lantern that hanged above their heads. "No, things that happened to me, or my family's stories. I simply make them more... entertaining." She pushed herself off the wall and patted the coin purse at her hip. "And it gets me the coin."

Amaya watched her as she stepped into the crowd, and introduced herself to another pair. She went to find her family.

The same happened the day after, only that this time it was Janai who found her. She slid into the seat next to hers at the bar, a smile on her face like she couldn't contain it. "Things are warming up," she drummed on the bar. "Polite folk, those guests."

The roll of her eyes almost made Amaya smile.  **_ Have you found any information about who you're looking for? _ **

Something swept across her face, like gratitude or that same hint of discomfort she had when she first approached Amaya. She didn't know why Janai was intent on keeping her brother's identity a secret, but that was her business. "No. I don't think they've ever met a person from Lux Aurea. But I'm going to find out."

There was such determination in her. Amaya tried to wonder, where would she go if something happened to Sarai? Or Callum, and Ezran? To the earth of the Earth, of course. She flipped the page.  **_ They won't stay for long. _ **

"Yes," Janai nodded. "I know." She lingered on the page for another moment, then lifted her head. "Would you like to be my second in command?"

Amaya was sure her lip-reading abilities betrayed her. To take part in Janai's act? What could she contribute to a story she didn't live, with words she couldn't speak?  **_ I can't join you. This isn't something I do. _ **

Janai smiled, like she could see behind her words. I have a reputation to maintain. "Just for one story, no more. I could use a fresh face, I think they're getting bored of li'l ol' me."

Amaya laughed. Damn her.

"One story, and I'll give you a good part. On my honor, miss." 

Warmth rose to Amaya's cheeks, as Janai pressed her palms together at her. This could be her last opportunity. When would she have another?

Janai proved to be true to her promise, and Amaya became so lost in their story she forgot it was an act. For the first time in a long time, she found it challenging to keep with Janai's enthusiastic telling, along with the attention of seven people on her. Her mind was racing, following the words, but she welcomed it.

In the story, they were in the town of Evergreen. Amaya has only heard of it in the past, a large town east of Lux Aurea, lush green, they said. A man had hurt Amaya's honor when he claimed her word was false, and neither of them allowed it.

"Then, she took this old thing," Janai said, and Amaya froze when her hand brushed her hip, and slid her pistol from its holster. She laid her gun on her palm and her fingers traced the metal, dirty with ash. She turned to look at her. "Remind me, where did you shoot him?"

She couldn't find her words. Janai was smiling at her, patiently, glimmering under the lights. Amaya blinked, breaking from her gaze, and sheathed her pistol in favor of her notebook.  **_ By the shoulder. He said he had a daughter. _ **

The Durens looked at her with wide eyes. A lady covered her gaping mouth, and some began to laugh when Janai did. She must have said something, but Amaya was busy watching their company. All her life, she has been true to her word. She didn't realize how little it took to fool someone.

They sat together again after the saloon began to clear. Only two other tables were taken, with the customers chatting quietly between themselves, most likely drunk after the evening. The owner was helping her crew clean up.

"So, how was it?" Janai asked her. Her usual spot, as well as Amaya's, were already cleaned up for the night, so they sat at another table, almost at the center of the saloon. 

Amaya showed her the page.  **_ Entertaining, as you said. _ ** She had noticed some of the locals eyeing her as they stood together. That would certainly become a word, especially with how Amaya had treated her at the beginning, and with Janai still lying low. A different thought came to her.  **_ Can you show me your dagger? _ **

Janai raised her eyebrows, and her locks fell on the side of her face as she shifted her weight and drew her dagger. There was a flash when the dimmed light of the last lanterns met the blade. The steel was smooth and silver, without a single scratch on it. If she didn't know better, she might have thought Janai had never used the dagger before, but as the assumption rang, Amaya realized she barely knows anything about her.

She thought Janai was about to set the dagger on the table, but instead she caught the edge between her fingers, and flipped it to show the hilt. A golden line was painted on it, swirling from begging to end, and an orange gem served as the pommel.

It was a beautiful, ancient thing, much like her own shield. Amaya had seen daggers before, testimonies of how people fought centuries ago, but she has never seen one crafted with such care. She picked up her pencil.  **_ Will it burn me if I touch it? _ **

Janai laughed at that. "No, but it is quite warm. Do you want to hold it?"

Amaya hesitated, looking into her eyes. She didn't imagine Janai would let her take a glimpse at her pistol, let alone touch her dagger. Amaya must have earned her trust, or that she was a fool. 

She slid her hand around the hilt and held it loosely, carefully. It was a lightweight thing, despite its appearance, and the blade was... warm. As if it was left under the midday sun. Amaya wondered what damage it could do, if a gun was right there. She wondered if Janai has ever used it.

Janai noticed how her eyes widened when she touched the metal. "Warm, right?" She asked after Amaya handed her the dagger back. Amaya nodded. "See, I'm no liar. Even the little story we told them is true."

She leveled her eyes with her. "Yes, it happened to my grandmother and her wife. Do you know why these folks like stories like mine?" She ran her thumb against the tip of the pommel, and returned the dagger to its place. "They excite them. They let them know things they will never experience from the comfort of their houses. They pay us to tell them stories about how we almost died, or how our ancestors almost died, and we put on a big smile and accept it."

The cynicism in her eyes caught Amaya unprepared. Janai seemed so nonchalant when enchanting the Durens, leaning against the wall. Smiling and bold, like she had them wrapped around her finger. Amaya inclined her head.  **_ If it brings you so much pain, why continue? _ **

"It doesn't bring me pain. I'm proud to tell my stories. I just know how they look at me," she said. Janai got up, and took out four silver coins from her pocket. "Good night, Amaya. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

For a moment, Amaya forgot her notebook, and instead of writing thank you, she moved her hand forward from her chin. Something flashed in Janai's eyes, and she smiled, and left her with the coins.

_And you asked me to dance_

_but I said: "Dancin' is a dangerous game"_

On the last day, they held a ball for the Durens. It was as Harrow had expected, their last day was the fourth one, just over the weekend. 

She found Janai in the same place where she was yesterday, leaning against the left wall of the saloon, right in the middle. There was an opening, a few feet away, to the restroom. She was gazing further into the room, wearing a blouse buttoned low and a pair of brown trousers. That wasn't what caught Amaya's eye, though. On top, she wore a long overcoat, checkered with blue and sewn with lace at the hems. It was fastened to her waist with a wide belt, and fell on her ankles. It was almost like a dress.

"No stories today," she told Amaya without her needing to ask at all. "I think they've had enough of me."

The acceptance written on her face was oddly reassuring, but Amaya didn't expect Janai to weep over a group of strangers. 

She pulled out her notebook and pen.  **_ Got any information? _ **

Janai shook her head and her glass, the remains of the whisky swirling inside. "No. I had a feeling they wouldn't know."

She was about to suggest that maybe Janai was searching in the wrong part of the continent; so far, her journey has been heading west, but she hasn't figured out why Janai was so certain her brother hadn't gone to the east. Just when she lifted her pencil to the paper, couples began to step towards the dais at the back of the saloon, and the players standing on the sides lifted their instruments.

Harrow and Sarai were at the front, and the rest of the townspeople stood with the Durens to watch. 

Janai laughed under her glass. "What a show you're putting for them," she said. Amaya's eyes were drawn towards the stage, the steps, the spins, and the music, even though she couldn't hear it. Janai must have caught it, because she said: "You know this song, don't you?"

Her attention returned to her, and faint warmness rushed to her cheeks.  **_ I know the steps, _ ** she wrote. It was a rather common dance, one that she has seen since she was a girl, standing in the front row below this very stage. A rather simple once, as well.

What Janai did next shocked her. She offered her her hand. "Would you grant me a dance, miss?"

Amaya's eyes went from her hand to her face as her heart skipped a beat. She retreated to resume writing, an excuse to regain her breath.  **_ I don't dance, _ ** was all she could scribble.

Janai's brows furrowed, and she withdrew her hand. "Is it not acceptable for your rank?" She turned her head to glance at Harrow and Sarai on the stage. "Your sister and her husband are right there."

Amaya shook her head. Janai wasn't mistaken. There was nothing unacceptable about her dancing. She brought the page to the pen again.  **_ It's harder, because I can't hear the music. _ **

"But you said you know the steps," Janai persisted, her eyes alight. "Come on, won't you honor your guests with one dance?"

Amaya looked at her, a voice whispering within her, and something rumbling in her chest. She nodded.

She stepped onto the dais after the first group took their leave, and Sarai smiled and glimpsed at her. Amaya felt her nerves turning into steel, but Janai was the complete opposite by her side. Lighter, and taller, the flames above bringing the deep crimson of her hair. She nearly forgot six other pairs were on the stage with them.

They crossed arms and bowed to each other, a hint of warmth where Janai touched her. From the corner of her eye, Amaya peeked at the other pairs. The violin player began to pluck the strings. Her timing was right, so far.

Janai stomped her left foot first, and clapped. There was a pause as she withdrew, then two claps when she stomped with her right. Amaya felt the vibration through the floor, remembering each move before it came. She joined her arm with Janai's as they spun, switching places, and Amaya repeated her moves as before. One stomp, then two. Maybe it was the tension that disappeared once she began to move, or Janai's smile, but Amaya felt her nerves calm.

They slid in opposite directions, caught each other's hands, and slid back. Amaya had half a second to think about how she didn't take Janai's hand when she offered, before they faced the crowd. She shifted her weight to one side, and stepped back, and again with the other leg. Janai was lifting her dress-like overcoat as her boots scratched the wooden floor, blue-and-white dripping between her fingers. The pairs of the last row advanced to the first, so now she and Janai were standing in the middle.

Although they hadn't discussed their roles prior, Janai let her lead. She put her hand on Amaya's shoulder, the other holding her hand, as Amaya held her waist. It was a swift set of moves then: Janai put her foot between Amaya's, and just as quickly as she could retreat, Amaya did the same. They repeated it once more, as if it was a silly game of trying to step on your partner's leg. Amaya brushed Janai's hand as she held it, and could feel Janai beneath the fabric of her tunic. It was lively, and almost childish, and she found herself laughing.

Janai raised her head to her at the sound, her eyes wide as Amaya twirled her away, her locks spinning about her. She only noticed her surprise when they were close again, brushing the small of her back. 

It was all a blur then, step after step. The worry that ached in Amaya's chest disappeared the more Janai smiled, and she no longer thought about her laugh. The crowd clapped and cheered, not that she could hear it. Not that she had eyes for it, either. She spun Janai, who spun her in return, and the joined hands when trading places with the other pairs.  _ Was this dance always this long? _ she thought. 

They stepped on the stage together, and just like that, it was over. Amaya's head cleared after a moment without movement, and she took a breath that filled her lungs with cool air. Her chest rose and fell, faint dampness on her cheeks. She glanced at Janai, who had the same color on her face. The crowd and the guests below clapped, and they all took a short bow.

Sarai caught her by the bar afterward, chatting about how nice it was to see her dance, and how wonderful she did, and of course, there was the inevitable smirk about Janai, but Amaya was more focused on her glass of water.

"I must admit, when Harrow told me of their meeting, I was suspicious at first as well," she said, but Amaya's gaze wandered somewhere else. Janai was standing against the wall across the room again, minding her own glass. She dug the toe of her boot against the floor. Her hand held the side of her body, where Amaya had touched. When she looked again, she saw her sliding into the restroom.

"I rather enjoyed the dance," she signed, the notebook inside the inner pocket of her vest. They continued to talk, and Harrow joined as well, his arms draped across Sarai's shoulder. She asked about the children, and Sarai laughed and told her they were not left alone in the house. Harrow talked about how kind were the Durens, and how excited Ezran was to begin horse riding lessons, and how well Callum is doing with his studies, and all this time Amaya was waiting to see Janai from the corner of her eye.

When she didn't, Amaya made her way towards the restroom. Janai barely drank, so it wasn't a question of sobriety, nor did she eat. The way she inclined her head, and clenched her side... perhaps she has gotten sick?

She knocked twice on the door, despite the irony in it. When nothing happened, she ripped a page off the notebook and wrote **_"Janai, it's me."_** before sliding it under the door. 

There was no response for a couple of seconds, not even a push of the note back. Then, the handle moved, and the door opened, just a crack.

When she entered, she saw Janai huddled on the bathroom seat, her tunic untucked and pushed to the side. She pressed the right side of her stomach tightly, and her body rose with each labored breath. It dawned on Amaya then, and she saw the blue robe tossed on the chair, and the stains of red on the sink. 

Janai raised her head to her, enough for Amaya to see the pain in her eyes. She rushed to kneel by her side, and saw the bandage clearly now. Janai clenched it tight to her skin, enough to make it whiten. Blood stained the linen, and the tips of her fingers. 

Amaya flickered her eyes between Janai and the bandage. She cursed, wishing Janai could understand her. There were a dozen of questions she wanted to put on the paper like  _ what happened? _ and  _ who did this to you?  _ and  _ can you see me well? _ but with no time to write them. 

Instead, she stroke Janai's arm, to offer some comfort through touch if not through words, and felt Janai shiver. She looked up at her, made her eyes lock with hers, and moved her hand from the base of her stomach towards her chest as she took a breath. Janai understood, and did the same, again and another time. Her eyes cleared, even though Amaya could still see the layer of cold sweat on her forehead.

She gently released Janai's hand from her wound, that she was clutching like any other sensible, but terrified person. Her palm was covered in blood, and the ragged bandage fell to her hand. Underneath, it revealed a long cut, curving towards Janai's stomach. It had a purple hue to it, and the edges were blackened with a scab that had begun to close them. The area around the cut was reddened, from irritation. Thankfully, the bleeding has stopped, but even a shallow cut could be lethal on this part of the body, and Janai's cut was far from shallow.

_ It must have opened from the dancing _ , she thought, and ran the bandage over water from the sink. Blood flew all over her hands as she squeezed the fabric once and twice, and returned to kneel by Janai's side, cleaning the wound carefully. When she was done, she wiped Janai's fingers as well.

"Thank you," she said, though Amaya guessed it was a whisper by how little her lips moved. She nodded, and nudged Janai's shoulder until she leaned back against the tank.

As her heart calmed, Amaya found her strength again and took out her notebook.  **_ How did this happen? How long ago? _ **

"Eleven days ago, before I came here," Janai answered, shielding her wound as if it might open on its own again.

Amaya did the calculations. This couldn't have been true.  **_ You rode here with an open wound? _ **

Janai smiled, her locks framing her flushed face. "The fellows at Desert Pass weren't as kind as you. I had no choice."

If Janai wasn't bleeding, in shock, and fatigued, Amaya would have screamed at her. No person could ride with a fresh stomach wound, no matter how badly they wanted to get away.  **_ Why didn't you stitch it?  _ ** She showed her the page instead.

Janai glanced aside, stroking the arm that protected her cut. "I... I couldn't," she then answered. "It was too painful."

Amaya lowered her hands, her shoulders dropping as she gazed at Janai. She was clearly embarrassed by her inability to treat herself, as if the fact that she couldn't handle the pain was shameful. It wasn't. She had been scared, and bleeding, and alone. Amaya couldn't believe she had spent the last week walking around and telling stories like there wasn't a constant ache in her body.

She sighed, and scribbled again.  **_ Stay here, I'll get some things.  _ ** _ Janai nodded. _

She returned with rags, a new bandage, tape, and a short cup of vodka, all that she tucked into the hidden pockets of her vest, apart of the glass. She slid into the restroom again, hoping no one noticed her, or Janai's disappearance. At worst, they would assume they were fooling in the bathroom; at best, she was going to help Janai.

Janai was standing when she entered, her hand on the sink, leaning on her good side. Her mouth parted at the amount of things Amaya was carrying, and she rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't-" she began, but Amaya was already pressing a wet cloth to her wound.

With Amaya's hand on her side, it was just like the dance. Same proximity, as well. Albeit, the location could be better. The rag was cold against Amaya's hand.

"I don't even need alcohol," Janai continued at the sight of the vodka. 

Amaya dropped the damn notebook on the sink and wrote with her free hand.  **_ Couldn't hurt. _ ** She spilled the alcohol on a second rag, the excess dripping down the drain, and inched closer to Janai again. 

With the cloth hovering about her skin, Amaya glanced up at Janai, a slight rise in her eyebrows. Janai stalled, looking beyond her shoulder at nothing, then nodded. Amaya slowly pressed the rag in short pats, and to her surprise Janai barely resisted. She clenched her teeth, and began to curse something Amaya didn't understand when she inclined her head, but kept standing upright. 

When she was done, Amaya finished by covering Janai's wound with a clean bandage, and taping it in place. It wasn't the best solution, but it was what she could no without stitches. The stomach was a difficult part of the body to treat; she didn't wrap the bandage around her in fear of stopping the blood.

She wrote as she turned around to bring Janai her dress, after cleaning up and discarding the dirty rags.  **_ How have you been treating it? _ ** She showed her the page.

"With a salve," she said, as she donned the dress again, and secured the belt high enough so it wouldn't touch the cut. "I've been sleeping on my back without the bandage to let it breathe."

Amaya nodded, and brought her hand down from her chin on top of the other.

Janai's eyes lit up. "Did you just sign  _ 'good' _ ?" She asked. 

She nodded again, a hint of warmth creeping up to her face. It has been a long while since someone was so glad to see her signing. 

"And this," Janai moved a hand away from her chin, in a straight line. "this is  _ 'thank you' _ , right?" She laughed when Amaya nodded. "You would have loved my brother, if he were here. He has a real passion for learning."

Amaya averted her eyes, trying to picture a sibling of Janai. She imagined the same dark skin, and red hair, and dark eyes. She wondered if he was as captivating as his sister.

**_ You should get out before me, _ ** she shifted to gesture at the door.

"Of course," Janai pushed herself away from the sink and stood for a moment, adjusting and waiting for a sting of pain, that thankfully didn't came. "Wouldn't want to start a rumor," she turned to her at the door, then left.

Amaya, understandably, had enough of the evening. She bid Harrow and Sarai goodbye and wished them a good night at the bar. Sarai pretended not to notice Janai waiting outside of the saloon, and Amaya pretended not to notice that. She hugged her sister, and said farewell to the saloon owner, and stepped out.

The outside was so much darker than the saloon; no lights, no crowd, and no curtain that hang from the ceiling in waves. The sun had set hours ago, living Katolis in the night, with thin clouds drifting across the sky, and brilliant stars shining above. 

Janai stood with her back to the wooden wall, and began to walk as soon as she arrived. She seemed as nothing had happened, as if Amaya hadn't walked on her bleeding out, but Janai was very good at pretending, she came to learn. The walk, the fresh air, and the lack of so many people made Amaya calmer, more at ease.

Writing while walking wasn't the most comfortable thing, but Amaya had faced worse things.  **_ You are staying at the hotel, right? _ **

"Yes," Janai answered. It was a futile question; of course she stayed at the hotel, unless Janai carried enough money to buy a house. 

Amaya looked at her and Janai looked away, into the direction in which they walked, and she found she had no more questions to ask or things to write. So they walked in silence, each minding their own thoughts, or even lack of, until they reached the hotel.

Janai stopped before the path that led inside, surrounded by cut-close grass on both sides. She turned to Amaya, quieter than she had seen her, even more than before. Her eyes drifted across her face like there was something she wanted to say, or wanted to do, but in the end all that she said were three simple words. "Good night, Amaya," she told her.

Amaya watched her walk down the path and enter the hotel, disappearing behind the glass door.

_**━━━━━━━━** _

Janai poured herself another cup of wine, filling her glass to the mid-point with the liquor. They weren't at the saloon, nor the hotel, but at Amaya's house. She had offered it, feeling a change of scenery was needed. In truth, she just wanted to sit with Janai at a place that was more comfortable than the saloon. 

Amaya's place was perhaps bigger than others, but humble nonetheless. A small kitchen with bright tiles and a round table, a bathroom down the hall, her bedroom upstairs, pleasant sunlight that came through the windows, and the couch they were sitting on. 

It has been a moon since Janai arrived. Like a good host, Amaya had taken out some wine to celebrate the anniversary. She tried not to think about it, however. A full moon, and Janai was still here. She had expected her to move on, but she hadn't.

"I wish my sister was a bit like yours," Janai laughed, and set the bottle down. She had opened up more about her family as the weeks passed. Her sister was Khessa, and the brother she was looking for was Ori, younger than her. She had introduced her to Gren and Corvus, and even Sarai when they happened to be at the same place during the same time.

"Khessa sounds great too," she spelled her sister's name, held a finger to her ear then opened and hand as she drew it away, and lastly, held both of her palms up. She- or Gren- has been teaching Janai sign language, and she tried to keep it simple and clear for her.

Janai scoffed and rolled her eyes, and rested her head against the couch. Amaya's gaze softened at her, at the way the strong sunlight caught every part of her, the brightness of her hair and the gold around her fingers. She was just a woman sitting on her couch, in her home, but there was something more, there was something different about it.

Why was she still here? Amaya tried not to think about it, because thinking about it would make her ask the question, and she wasn't sure what kind of answer Janai would give her. As a friend, it was in her interest to ask, because she wanted Janai to find her brother, but it was so nice... it was so nice to have her around.

"Amaya?" Janai asked, bringing her back. Her eyes were slightly widened, and she realized how long she had been staring at her. She didn't try to look away or apologize, for there was nothing to say. Janai didn't look scared, not like how she seemed in the restroom of the saloon, three weeks ago. 

Her hand shifted in her lap, and her eyes flickered down Amaya's face. A faint blush appeared on her face. Amaya was no fool; she nodded, and as they drew closer, they met halfway together.

Amaya sagged with relief at the feeling of Janai's lips, a tension that has been building within her for some time now dissolving at last. She reached to cup her cheek, so overjoyed to have her affections returned. Janai's lips were warm, and sweet from the wine, and she reached around to hold Amaya's back.

She only realized how hard her heart was beating when Janai broke the kiss. "I... I need to put this down," she said, so faintly Amaya could barely tell the words apart. Amaya's gaze pulled from her face, to the glass of wine still in her hand. Janai set it down, and leaned to kiss her again. 

Now that both of her hands were free, Janai wrapped them around Amaya's shoulders, and stroke the nape of her neck, and buried her fingers in her hair. Amaya smiled at the sensation, smiled against her lips, smiled because of everything.

In an attempt to get closer, Janai ended up hovering over her, almost straddling her. Her legs slipped from the couch to meet the ground as Amaya held her waist, and the next thing she knew, they were standing.

They caught their breath in each other's arms, chests falling and rising, and blush masking their faces entirely. Amaya couldn't help but look at Janai, for there was nothing more worth gazing at than her. Her lips were reddened, as she imagined her own must be, and there was a fire in her eyes.

A moment passed, and, still caught in the embrace, Amaya began to worry if Janai would pull away, or kiss her again, or even yell at her. She did neither, only continued to hold her. It almost felt like the dance again.

Amaya considered herself a very experienced person; she had seen it all, heard it all. It took a lot to surprise her, because she often calculated ten steps ahead. But Janai seemed to have the talent to ruin that virtue.

"Your room is upstairs, right?" She asked, caressing her shoulders. Amaya could feel her fingers above the cotton of her tunic.

She nodded, understanding fully what would follow, and as Janai drew away from her, she took her hand, and led her up the stairway.

_**━━━━━━━━** _

_Now you hang from my lips_

_like the gardens of Babylon_

_with your boots beneath my bed_

_forever is the sweetest con_

Janai closed the door behind her, the wood and the metal creaking as it swung into place. She placed her hat on the coat hanger and took off her boots, leaving them at the entrance.

The house was quiet for this hour. Usually, she'd find Amaya in the living room, or even in the kitchen cooking, but the house seemed empty. How strange, maybe she had gone out?

It has been five years now. Tomorrow, in fact, would be their anniversary.

Janai slid through the kitchen, and skimmed a look over the living room as well. No note. The house was perfectly still, everything in place.

Deciding to leave the matter, Janai took the stairs to the second floor, her feet producing a hollow sound against the steps. She walked the length of the corridor, covered with an olive-green carpet, and opened the door to their bedroom.

At the doorway, she stopped in her tracks, and the sight in front of her made her chest fill with warmth. Amaya was curled up on the bed, still wearing her day clothing of a white tunic and brown leather breeches. She had one hand tucked beneath her head, the other reaching towards the empty pillow by her side. 

Janai shook her head. She must have been very tired, but it was so like her to fall asleep with the room completely alight, without even changing to her sleeping clothes.

She stepped in, knowing that nothing can wake Amaya in this state. She drew the curtains to dim the light, picked a thin blanket resting over the armchair, and draped it on her partner.

Amaya didn't even shift when she came to lie beside her, the mattress sinking under her weight. She gazed on her sleeping form, her face so peaceful and calm, a strand of hair falling on its side. She had seen Amaya like this many times before, had seen her in almost every possible state, and just as sweet as well. She didn't imagine ever getting tired of it.

Janai reached to brush Amaya's cheek, the back of her hand meeting the softness of her skin. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and returned her hand to rest between them. Tiredness washed over her and, thinking of how happy Amaya would be to see her home, she closed her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!  
> [my tumblr](https://queenjanai.tumblr.com/)


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